


Feels off. Lights off.

by animangalover15



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, This Is Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animangalover15/pseuds/animangalover15
Summary: Jaskier withers under the accusation, shoulders sagging and head down. Shame radiates off of him. Shame and anger."This isn't the first time." Jaskier grits out through clenched teeth."What?""I'm abardGeralt. It happens.""Itshouldn't.""What?""Itshouldn't."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 497





	Feels off. Lights off.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I am a firm believer in feral jaskier who can handle his own shit, but also love the idea of jaskier getting hurt and being comforted by a protective geralt.
> 
> My friend edited this for me and liked it, but in my opinion, it wasn't my best work, so take that for what you will.
> 
> Now let's get to the angst!

Witchers have heightened senses. Sometimes he thinks Jaskier forgets that.

The floorboards creak as the bard opens the door to their room for the night. He's trying to be quiet, the first sign something is off. Jaskier gave up tiptoeing around at night after once playing a single chord of his lute and somehow managing to wake an angry, restless geralt. He'd soon realized even whispering was too loud for the witchers ears. So really, _"What's the point of even trying Geralt?"_ he had said, strumming his lute loudly in the dead of night, not letting geralt have one moment of reprieve.

Geralt is facing the door, lying on his side. He doesn't bother opening his eyes. Or turning around for that matter.

Jaskier had left with a nobleman earlier back at the bar, and if Geralt's being honest, he didn't expect to see him back tonight. If Jaskier comes back to their room after a rendezvous, it usually means he's been kicked out of his lover's bed. He's usually mopey about it the next day.

And that's what Geralt assumes happened. He assumes Jaskier was thrown out by a lover and would moan about it tomorrow. What a bother.

Despite that though, there's a sense of relief knowing Jaskier’s there, knowing he can keep the bard safe. He worries Jas will get himself killed one day, probably from messing with the wrong noble.

He tries to ignore the prickly feeling he gets whenever he thinks about Jaskier with anyone else.

Geralt wasn't asleep, couldn't doze off without the bards incessant humming to lull him to that state. He can't stand the impact Jaskier has had in his life. That he's allowed it. 

Gerslt lays on his side, waiting to hear Jaskier lay down because his witcher ears pick up everything. From the scuffling of his boots to the light breaths he huffs. It's all a little too noisy for him.

The tap of jaskier's footsteps are odd though. Off. Sounds like he's dragging one foot behind the other. Hissing when he falls to bed.

The candles fire had been put out earlier that evening, when Geralt made a pitiful attempt at sleep. He's facing Jaskier’s bed, opens his eyes and can see just enough of Jaskiers form with his witcher sight to see that he winces at every major movement. 

He huffs a sigh and watches Jaskier freeze. There's silence for a moment, and it looks as if Jaskier relaxes again when he asks a gruff, "What's wrong?"

Jaskier jumps, tenses, then plays into his nonchalant act, "Ah! Geralt, didn't know you were awake." There's something off about his voice too, warbled like a bad lute cord, "Well no matter! Pay no attention to me, I'm just," he moves to take off his boot, winces at the stretch of the angle, and tries to hide it, "getting ready for a nice rest myself." There's obvious strain in his voice as he speaks.

Something is wrong. Besides all the wincing and obvious pain, if Jas had been kicked out by a lover, he'd be mopey, would have no qualms pitying his woes and sorrows. If an angry nobleman has managed to land a few solid punches, he'd never hear the end of it.

This time though, Jaskier was quiet. Quieter than any bard should be.

He can tell Jas is hesitant to take off his shirt. His hands linger on the buttons, debating. He takes a breath and pulls it off with a grimace and a glance in Geralt's direction. 

Geralt's upper lip twitches into a snarl. The musk of another man rolls off of Jaskier in waves. His witcher senses make the scent damn near unbearable. 

Then he smells it. The distress coming off Jask. Suddenly everything becomes clearer. The anxiety apparent in his form, the winces, the nervous glances, the limping.

The shame hidden behind the shadows of the night.

Geralt gets up without a word. He takes a match and goes, ready to light a single candle.

He catches Jaskier tense from his bed, no doubt wondering why Geralt was getting up in the first place.

When Jaskier sees him going for a match, he rushes to put his shirt back on and close it up.

It's a strange thing, Geralt thinks, because Jaskier has never been one to hide his body. He flaunts it in fact. Proudly shows off hickeys and bites and scratches his lovers leave on him. Geralt despises it.

But when the candle illuminates the room, he understands.

Jaskier, still struggling to get his other arm through the sleeve, was covered in marks. Bruises and thin gashes scatter his abdomen. There's a large bruise, one in the shape of a hand, settling its way onto Jaskier's neck.

Geralt's face solidifies into something stony and disbelieving. Jaskier watches the way the witcher's expression morphs into a scowl, and looks away. 

He bites at the inside of his cheek in humiliation. As if what was done to him was something he should be blamed for.

"Come to stare witcher?" He says bitterly. It's said with enough animosity to snap Geralt back into reality. And suddenly he's angry. Angry because jaskier didn't stop this from happening. Angry because Geralt wasn't there to protect him.

 _Enraged_ because some entitled lord thought that Jaskier's comfort wasnt of any importance to him. Figured he could just throw him out after he served him without giving Jaskier's wellbeing any consideration. 

Geralt grasps the arm that hasn't made its way into a sleeve yet. There's a bruise forming on his wrist and what looks like a slit on his forearm. 

"Who did this?" Geralt asks, fearful of the answer. 

Jaskier’s eyes are distant and misty. He looks away with a click of his tongue and a wet scoff and pulls his arm back to put his shirt on again. Geralt watches as the Adam's apple in his throat bobs uneasily. 

" _Jaskier..._ " he says with more authority. 

"Duke Armadon." silence, then, "...and his friends."

Geralt growls, grits his teeth in anger. He eyes his swords, already making his way towards them.

" _Geralt._ " Jas calls, fixing him with a desperate glare, "It’s _fine_ , I can take care of myself."

"Then what happened!?" Geralt snaps. His jaw is set, his amber eyes furious. 

Jaskier withers under the accusation, shoulders sagging and head down. Shame radiates off of him. Shame and anger.

" _This isn't the first time._ " Jaskier grits out through clenched teeth.

" _What?_ " 

"I'm a _bard_ Geralt. It happens."

"It _shouldn't._ "

" _what?_ "

"It _**shouldn't**_ "

Jaskier scoffs, "Right well, witchers shouldn't be harrassed either, and yet-"

"That's different. "

"It's not."

There's a long stretch of silence. One that makes everything feel _off._

Jas sighs, "Maybe you'll be glad to know this is the first time it's happened since we've been traveling together." He gives a tired glance Geralt's way.

That only gets Geralt clenching his jaw, hands balling up into fists.

He eyes his swords again, then eyes the way Jaskier’s whole body seems to droop. 

Huffing out an irritated breath, he goes to sit beside Jaskier. The bard stays staring down at his hands. His wrists are red, and Geralt feels anger rise up in him again. He wants to go rip those men limb from limb. He wants them and anyone who's ever hurt the bard to suffer.

Instead, he takes Jaskier’s hand in his own, massages the skin of his wrist. 

He hears a shuddering sigh leave the bards lips, and when he looks up at him, there are tears in his eyes. He's trembling, breaths coming out short and sharp. He leans on Geralt's shoulder and lets out a long quivering sigh. 

And then, he sobs.

He's sobbing on the witcher’s shoulder, vulnerable and scared. Terrified. 

He'd only ever let himself cry about this at the beginning. When he was young and naive and had longed to be a bard and in love. He'd be left bloodied and half dressed in the dirt and he'd sob his heart out. 

And after enough times, he stopped crying. Resigned to the knowledge that this is what bards go through. What they _do._ He'd dress and drag himself to the nearest inn to wash up with a dull sort of stagger. He'd numbed himself to it.

And now? Well now, he's crying on the shoulder of his witcher. 

Geralt lets him, doesn't flinch as Jas clutches at the clothes at his chest. Doesn't even think of pushing him off as tears and snot wet his shoulder. 

Instead he grapples for Jaskier’s hand lightly, reaching for the wrist again. He thumbs at the red marks left behind.

Then he lifts the wrist up to his lips, and gives it the lightest kiss Jaskier has ever experienced. 

Jaskier lifts his head slowly, watching as Geralt's lips hover over his wrist.

And suddenly they're looking into each other's eyes. The light of the candle illuminates Jaskier’s face beautifully, Geralt thinks.

They lean in, only a hair's breadth away from each other. And when their lips meet, and mouths close over each other, Jaskier sobs.

**Author's Note:**

> Poor jaskier. 
> 
> Really thought about adding in a sort of epilogue, where geralt makes those asshole nobles suffer, but I figured this ending fit better.
> 
> This was actually made as a request and I'm so sorry it took me so long to write! T-T
> 
> Anyways I hope you enjoyed, check out my tumblr(@animangalover-writes) if your interested in any future fics


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